Constant Companion
by DramaGeek
Summary: <html><head></head>Post "Listen". Clara tries to work out exactly how her timeline led the TARDIS to Danny's childhood, the end of the universe, and Gallifrey.</html>
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N **__As much as I love the charm of explanations in Doctor Who being little more than hand waving and saying it's "timey whimey", I'm sure I'm not the only one who watched "Listen", loved it, and then cried out, 'But how did the TARDIS get to any or all of those places?'. And in moments like that, my tragically logical mind has to sort out the plot holes and provide an explanation, even if only to appease myself. So, here's what I came up with. _

"Clara Oswald," Danny Pink said, with reverence, as he brushed a strand of hair off her face. It was nearly sun up, and yet it still surprised him that she was lying in his bed, particularly given how badly their date had gone. "Clara Oswald," he repeated, as if relishing in the sound of it.

"That's my name," she replied with a laugh, enjoying the look of pure affection on his face.

"I like your name."

"I know. It's the one nice thing you managed to say to me tonight." Danny buried his face into her shoulder in embarrassment. "Not to worry. More than made up for it now." He still looked perturbed when he lifted his head, so she added, "I like your name too. Danny Pink. It's a good name."

"Better than Rupert?"

"Much."

"Are you ever going to tell me how you knew that name?"

"One day."

"But not tonight?"

"No," she said definitively, before laying her head on his chest. "Why 'Danny'? What made you choose that?"

"It's a stupid reason."

"No it's not. Big decision like that. Couldn't have been."

"I had these toy soldiers when I was a kid, used to play with them all the time. One of them was broken, didn't have a gun, but I liked to think of him as the colonel. I used to call him "Dan the Soldier Man". See I told you it was stupid."

"Shut up, it's not."

"Guess I just wanted to be like him. A soldier so brave he didn't need a gun." Clara's whole face fell. Misunderstanding her expression Danny added, "Let me guess, you don't approve of playing soldiers?"

"Nothing wrong with it. Lots of scary things out there when you're a kid. Probably nice to have your own army."

"Plastic army. But yeah. They… well actually, they used to guard under my bed."

"Keep out the monsters?" Clara tried to sound nonchalant and not give away the current of fears and questions swirling around her head.

"Yeah. Did a pretty good job actually. I used to have a lot of bad dreams as a kid. You know that dream when someone grabs your leg in the middle of the night? I used to get that one all the time. But it turns out it was Oswald's fault."

Clara quickly sat up in bed and stared at him, "What?"

"Oh Oswald, he was my best friend. I sort of… well I grew up in this children's home and Oswald had the room next to me. He was a practical joker and used to sneak into my room to scare me in the middle of the night."

"So it was just a kid in a bed spread," Clara said, more to herself than to Danny. She quickly added, "and not a monster under the bed."

"Don't think he knew how scared I was, but when I started putting out the soldiers, it's like he just got it. He told me it'd been him. Even apologized. I thought he'd tease me for being scared, but he never mentioned it again. Almost looked spooked."

"Maybe Dan the Soldier Man sorted him out," Clara said in an off handed way, while she reevaluated the events of the night. She knew that a child in a bed spread was entirely possible, but she hadn't considered how unsettling the scene would have been for them. Strangers spouting nonsense in the middle of the night, scarier than monsters any day. "When was that?" Clara asked, suddenly aware that this must be how the TARDIS knew to take her to that moment. If Danny told her the exact date it made sense that the TARDIS would find it.

"Oh I don't know, guess I would have been seven or eight. Oswald was a year older. Maybe he just grew out of it, you know? Got too old for pretending."

"All the silly things little boys do to each other."

"Or that friends do."

"Suppose that's why you like my name, then. Good memories of old friends." Clara said, laying her head back on his chest. Pleased that he didn't seem to have any memory of her and the Doctor's visit.

"Guess so. You know I hadn't thought of him in years. Oswald Oswin—"

"What was that?" Clara tilted her head up so she could catch his eye, praying she had misheard.

"That was his name, Oswald Oswin. Bit of a little shit. Would've driven me crazy, if I took him for maths. But back then he was family."

"What happened to him?" Clara asked, already fearing the answer.

"He died. He was young. Nineteen. Rescued a man from drowning. Oswald… well he was a good man. Maybe it goes with the name. You Oswalds are quite the bunch."

"You have no idea."

* * *

><p>Clara had to laugh at the state of her apartment. Her favourite mug sat on the counter, still containing about a half cup of cold tea. Her clutch lay haphazardly on the sofa, where she had tossed it. The entire space now a relic to moping interrupted. It was amazing how much things could change in an evening, especially when time travel was involved. Brave little Rupert Pink. Afraid of the monster under his bed, but never batting an eye at the presence of two strangers, one of whom was particularly strange. She worried he took the Doctor's words (and the subsequent "dream") a little too much to heart. Would he have always become a soldier or was his fate sealed on that day? Did his big dream of being Dan the Soldier Man set the course for the rest of his life? And was it his recounting of the story to Clara that led the TARDIS to Rupert's room last night, or was it Oswald? Was there another her in that room listening to them talk of nightmares and monsters under the bed? These thoughts consumed Clara as she washed her face and brushed her teeth. The idea that she had inadvertently shaped the whole course of Danny Pink's life was terrifying. Then again, it wasn't nearly as terrifying as the thoughts she was avoiding: questions about Orson and who he was to her were decidedly <em>not<em> being considered. The answers, even just the possibilities there in, were far too much for this moment, especially considering she had only just got home from her first date with his _potential_ great grandfather. That was one of the things she was definitely _not_ thinking about.

Clara walked to her bedroom in a daze. After sitting up all night with the Doctor and then staying up with Danny she was well past the point of exhaustion. Her questions and fears began to drift away. All she wanted was her bed. The only problem was that it was currently being obstructed by a police call box.

"That date went longer than the first. Was it any better?"

"Much improved," Clara replied, putting her heels away and pushing past the TARDIS to lie down on her bed.

"Good. Now come on."

"Not going. Sleeping."

"Sleep later. We have places to be."

Clara put her pillow over her face and tried to evoke the insolence of Courtney Woods, "Like where?"

"Gloucester. We still haven't determined why the TARDIS brought us there."

"Maybe someone told me that story," Clara said, closing her eyes, willing sleep to win out over her curiosity.

"Like who? No, you must have been there somewhere. Little you, with your little brain. Maybe you knew Rupert. Maybe he told you he was having bad dreams."

Clara sighed, there really was no way she was going to get any sleep. She sat up in bed and absentmindedly hugged her pillow, her mind far away. "What if it wasn't actually me. What if it was one of the other ones? The copies from Trenzalore?"

The Doctor's face grew hard for a moment. "It's possible. Do you have memories of that place?" He sounded almost clinical, but she knew him well enough now to know that was a defence mechanism. The Doctor had witnessed two versions of her give their lives for him, and was well aware of the countless others who had done the same. She could tell from the way he almost never talked about it, the way he didn't ask her anything, even though he must be deeply curious, that be felt a tremendous amount of guilt and responsibility for the demise of so many Clara Oswalds.

"No, but then again I don't remember much from the others."

"Why don't we check?" The Doctor ran into the TARDIS, confident Clara would be right behind him. Covering up feelings with a task and a flurry of motion was something he shared with his former self. "Here it is," he called from the console, rotating the screen so she could see it, "Oswald Oswin. He had the room next to Rupert." The picture on the screen could have been Clara's brother. Or perhaps herself at nine if her hair had been kept short. "But he's a boy. If he's a copy of me, why is he a boy, Doctor?"

"Think of how many there were, thousands upon thousands of you. To think one might have slipped up, got a Y chromosome instead of an X is hardly impossible." The Doctor's voice was dismissive, but it masked a thought, or the beginnings of one. _What if no one is every really alone? What if every single living thing has a companion? A silent passenger? _ Another Clara in that room. How many times had he passed one of them unaware?

Clara didn't notice the Doctor's worried look, she was too busy reevaluating the night, "Could there have been another me with Orson? Only no, I mean there couldn't have, because there was no one else. But how did you get there? Even if he's somehow related to me, why would he be in _my _timeline long after I was dead? But it was the end of the universe. There was nothing else…" Clara thought of the copies upon copies, enough to save the Doctor in every moment. Did that mean they would outlast the universe to protect him? "It wasn't me knocking, was it?"

The Doctor looked far away and then snapped back to the present. "No, but you were there." He began typing furiously into the console, looking between two screens and studying the Gallifreyan characters on display.

"How, Doctor?"

"Let's just say you were there in spirit." One screen suddenly showed the interior of Orson's shuttle. "Do you see it?"

"See what?" Clara asked, scanning the image without comprehension.

"You," he pointed to the bottom left corner of the computer.

"Operating System With an Intelligent Network?" she read out, still not seeing the significance.

"O.S.W.I.N."

"O.S.— Oswin?"

"Oswin Clara Oswald," the Doctor flipped a switch and the photo of another copy, this one pale with short hair, appeared on the screen accompanied by a biography. "Brilliant computer scientist. Groundbreaking work in artificial intelligence. Sickly though. Incurable genetic disorder, probably another misplaced gene, like Oswald. She was afraid she'd die before she was able to complete her work, so she put herself into the program. You were there, Clara. Not breathing, but still thinking, remembering. Saving me."

"Orson saved you."

"I should have been sucked out of that airlock long before he got there. She must have repaired it, at least partially. Or I would have been bye bye, and Orson Pink and the TARDIS would have come sailing out after me."

"Guess I'll never be done saving you."

Clara tried to smile at the Doctor, tried to lighten the mood, but his features were a mask, darkened by the inner workings of his mind. "Where did you go after? Where were you without me?"

"Doctor," Clara's voice held all the warning of the previous night.

"Was it in your timeline or one of the others?" She crossed her arms across her chest, sealing herself up, trying to show persistence was futile. "The TARDIS safeties were off. She could have taken us anywhere." He moved towards the console, but Clara placed her body in front of it.

"Doesn't matter."

"But what if it does? All of these you's, all over time and space. Living, and dying, and always there. My fault, and yours, but why can't I see this one? What are you hiding?"

"Doctor—"

"Yes, yes, do as I'm told." He stepped to the right, but again she blocked his path.

"You promised to never look where we had been."

"Yes, I did. But I lie." This time he was too quick for her. His hands moved across the keys and his eyes flew up to the screen expectantly. It, however, remained blank. He typed in a few more commands, but to no avail. He glared at the TARDIS. "I think I liked it better when the two of you didn't get along."

"We're just looking out for you. Sort of our jobs."

"Thought I was your hobby?" He said it with a sneer, but the tension of the previous moment had all but gone.

"Actually, at the moment, you are a pest. I _need_ sleep." Clara began walking towards the door, the Doctor didn't stop her. "Come back again tonight. We'll fight Sontarans or rescue space squids. Just let me get at least eight hours of rest." She turned back to him before entering her bedroom, "See you later, Doctor," and with that she was gone.

**A/N** _There's one more part to this story. We still need to address the question of how Clara ended up on Gallifrey that night, so TBC. _


	2. Chapter 2

"How could you let the Krafayis escape?" The Doctor bellowed upon his return to the console room.

"Couldn't exactly see it, could I?" Clara replied.

"No, but you could have, possibly, shut the door to the rest of the TARDIS."

Clara looked a little sheepish, "Okay, well… sorry. I am sorry."

"Yes, yes, fine." The Doctor, heavily strapped into the species matcher, made his way towards the door the Krafayis had just slipped out of. "Wait here. It may be a young one, but it will still lash out if it feels threatened. And I don't suppose you'll want to show up at school missing an eye or anything. Don't imagine PE would approve."

"His name's Danny," Clara said with irritation.

"Right, Dan the Soldier Man, how could I forget?"

"You didn't, you're just trying to seem indifferent."

The Doctor shrugged, "Who you date is your business."

"Yeah, it is." Clara sighed and tried to keep her temper in check, "Now go find your invisible, baby monster."

"Whatever you say, boss. Hope you don't have anywhere pressing to be. Can't risk the Krafayis getting out, so we can't land the TARDIS until she's caught, which could be a matter of minutes or weeks depending on how many doors you've left open."

Clara glared at him without malice, "Run along then. Make your aunt proud," she added, pointing to the species matcher.

"I'll be sure to close the door behind me, shall I? And try to get along, you two."

Clara looked confused for a moment and then glanced over at the console, "We always get along. At least recently." She directed her statement more towards the TARDIS, since the Doctor had already gone. Long after she heard the door close Clara continued to look at the time rotor. There was something she'd been meaning to say for weeks now, but she's never found the right moment. This was it, and yet still she hesitated. The Doctor spoke to the TARDIS all the time. Clara had too, back when they were at odds, but she'd never attempted a civil conversation with it, much less a... "Thank you. For before. For not showing the Doctor where we'd been."

The TARDIS made a couple of beeps. Clara wondered if it was just her imagination that made them sound entirely dismissive, as if the TARDIS had said, "Well obviously".

"Did you... did you delete the information or just prevent him from seeing it?"

In response the TARDIS locked the doors to the console room and projected its view of the barn onto the screen in front of Clara.

"Can you play it for me, show me what happened there?" The video began. Clara watched herself leave the TARDIS, look around, and then climb up a ladder towards the Doctor's bed, "Was there anyone else there? Someone hiding in the dark?" A Gallifreyan version of Oswald Oswin, ready to scare the young Doctor in the night? The TARDIS made no response, simply let the video play. After a moment voices could heard approaching the barn.

"Why does he have to sleep out here?"

"He doesn't want the others to hear him crying."

"Why does he have to cry all the time."

"You know why."

The two adults moved into view and the image froze. _I had a teacher like you once_, the Doctor's words rang out in her head. Even in profile the Gallifreyan woman was unmistakably Clara. A good thirty years older, fuller figured, with strands of grey in her hair, and crows feet lining her eyes, but Clara through and through. Clara had never seen herself older before. In any other context that would have given her pause, but viewing the scene only one thought came to mind, _I have always been there, right from the very beginning_. The words sounded familiar, but she wasn't sure why. Millions of lives all jumbled in her head, strings of memories getting misplace. _The barn._ She knew it was the same one, and she had been right, but she wasn't remembering it from the final day of Gallifrey, she must have been remembering from that time, that place, when it was part of her everyday life. When the Doctor as a child was part of her life as well.

The Doctor's voice called her back from the memories, "Oh, so before you couldn't even be bothered to close the door, but now that I have a baby warrior on a leash you've gone so far as to lock it."

In that instant the screen went black and several clicks were heard as the TARDIS unlocked all of the doors to the console room.

"Did you find it, Doctor?" Clara asked, trying to affect an even tone.

"What does it look like?" he said triumphantly, holding up a seemingly empty catch pole, an object that would seem more appropriately place in the hands of a park ranger, than those of a Time Lord.

Clara laugh, it didn't look like much of anything, but she was willing to humour him, "Like you've ensnared a fierce and invisible beast."

The Doctor looked very pleased with himself. His smile fell when he looked up at Clara, "What's wrong with your face?"

"Nothing," she responded too quickly.

"But you're eyes are all shiny and faraway looking. I thought I told the two of you to play nice?"

"We were on our best behaviour," Clara said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Then what's that look for?"

"That's the look you get when I'm about to do this," Clara threw her arms around him.

"You know I am still carrying a young Krafayis." Clara didn't budge. "And I'm still not a hugging person."

"Still don't get a vote."

* * *

><p>Danny Pink woke up alone in the middle of the night. He raised his head slightly and saw Clara sitting at her vanity, staring out of the window. Looking at the moon, Danny gathered. Clara had not spoken to the Doctor in several months, and when Danny asked her about it her answer was always 'good riddance'. And yet, more often then not, he found her staring at the moon when she thought he wasn't watching. At least he hoped that's what she was looking at. He'd rather believe it was that then that she was looking for the TARDIS. He watched her for a long moment, taking in the the rigid way she held her body and the anxious look in her eyes, so different from her usual cheerful demeanour. He wished she would talk to him, trust him with her feelings, whatever they might be. But then, wasn't he partially to blame? She knew he wasn't exactly a fan of the Doctor. And besides, hadn't he noticed her sitting there many nights and never said a word? He wasn't going to make the same mistake this time. "What's wrong?" Clara looked over at him with genuine surprise, she hadn't expected him to be awake and it made her hesitate before responding. "And don't say 'nothing'."<p>

Clara shrugged, "Couldn't sleep."

"Why?"

Clara opened her mouth and then closed it again. She glanced back out the window.

"I know it's about the Doctor. Do you miss him?"

"No." Danny's look demanded the truth, "Yes. Doesn't mean I regret my choice."

"Then why can't you sleep?"

"I'm worried about him."

Danny laughed bitterly, "He's a 2000 year old alien who clearly thinks he's some kind of god. I think he can probably take care of himself."

"He shouldn't be alone. He doesn't do well on his own, especially not this version of him. He needs somebody—."

"To take care of him?"

_I'm his carer_. "At least be there to care so he doesn't have to."

"Then he can find someone else." Clara grimaced at the idea. These were the moments when Danny questioned whether she really was done with the Doctor, when she couldn't bare to think about being replaced. Danny tried his best not to be jealous. "What I mean is, there are always people out there who will help him. Even I've helped him, and I don't even like him. It doesn't always have to be your job."

"More like a hobby, really," she said with a little chuckle, before the sadness crept back into her face, and her eyes once again sought out the moon.

"Clara," Danny waited for her to look at him before he continued, "you haven't let him down or abandoned him, or whatever it is that you're afraid of."

"I know," Clara said, as if she almost believed it.

"Then come back to bed." Clara took one last look at the moon, drew the blinds, and curled up in Danny's arms. "He's going to be alright."

"I know. It's just that... I've _always_ looked out for him."

Clara wrapped her arms around him and Danny pressed a light kiss to her forehead, "Maybe it's someone else's turn."

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, pardon me. Only being chased by a killer robot. Suppose you lot would be running for your lives if you could see it too. Damn cloaking technology," the Doctor muttered as he made his way through the Flying Scotsman—he really should know better than to board a space replica of a historical train, no matter how appealing the name was. The robot's pace was slow enough, but between the people, obstructions, and different compartments the Doctor was only managing to keep a few paces in front of it. The Doctor had run nearly half the length of the train when at last he came to an ornate wooden door. He turned the knob, but found it locked. He then tried his sonic screwdriver, but to no avail.<p>

"I always knew it would end like this," he said bitterly to his screwdriver. The Doctor pressed all of this weight into the door, but still it would not budge. "Wood, it had to be wood. Who has wooden doors on a space train?"

The robot was mere inches from him when suddenly he was falling through the doorway. "Think they were going for a sort of vintage, authentic feel."

"Clara?!" The Doctor stared at her in wonder as she closed the heavy door on the machine and secured the lock.

She reached out a hand and helped the Doctor to his feet, "Do I know you?"

The Doctor looked her over. She wore a collar shirt, high waisted pants, several leather belts, and a couple of holsters containing sonic weapons. She looked like a space cowboy, and seemed completely at home with her surrounding. This wasn't _his Clara_. "No, but I know you."

"My reputation proceeds me?" she said, with a cocky smile.

"You have no idea. Now was it Clara Oswald or Oswin?"

"Oswin. And you are?"

He held out his hand, "I'm the Doctor. It is very good to meet you. And thank you for saving my life, again."

Clara Oswin raised an eyebrow, "Have I saved you before?"

"I imagine so. Or perhaps you will in the future."

"Are you really that jeopardy friendly?"

"Must be."

"Probably shouldn't ask this then, but Doctor, now that I've saved your life (at least once), want to help me stop an invisible robot from killing everyone on this train?"

"Whatever you say, boss."

* * *

><p>The Doctor had arranged his blackboards in a circle around the console room. He moved between them in a flurry of motion, a complex web connecting his chaotic collection of drawings, symbols, and words. His life was a hard one to track. Then again, that wasn't really what he was doing. He wasn't looking for himself, he was looking for Clara; all of her. His boards were filled with the ones he had found so far. Oswin Oswald, who'd saved him in the Dalek Asylum. Clara Oswin Oswald who gotten him off of his cloud and had helped him saved the world. Oswald Oswin, the silly boy in the blanket, who the Doctor now knew saved his sixth self from drowning. And Clara Oswin, the vigilante from the train, who he would have been tempted to remain in the company of, if not for the damage it might do to his timeline. In truth, he would have gladly saved her and all the others from the consequences of saving his life. Unfortunately, doing so would make the bravery and sacrifice of Clara and all of her other selves pointless, not to mention result in a few universe ending paradoxes. So instead he researched, and formed connections, and remembered. That last bit was new for him. Up until now he had done his best <em>not<em> to remember the other Clara's. She must have died saving his life thousands if not millions of times. The Doctor hated the idea, but since he was powerless to stop it, he had tried to simply put it behind him. Not now. The Doctor was not sure what had changed, but he was ready now. Ready to take stock and learn about all of these echoes who had saved him. Ready to remember. And not just all of the Clara's, but Gallifrey too. Now that he knew it was out there somewhere, that there was a chance it could be restored, the memory of it didn't haunt him like it used to. And if his goal was to learn about all of the Clara's who had helped him, then he would have to think about Gallifrey. He had lived there for hundreds of years before he stole the TARDIS, which meant that Clara had too. There was the young Time Lady who had told him which TARDIS to steal and of course his teacher, Oswaldoswin, who expected nothing but his best when it came to his studies, but was kind and patient with him in every other aspect of his life. And so many others. Not just on Gallifrey, but throughout the entirety of space and time. The Doctor had been to every corner of the universe, which meant that there was bound to be a Clara Oswald just about everywhere, and starting now the Doctor was going to see them. He was going to pay attention. He was going to listen. _Listen._ He had been hearing that lately in his dreams. _Listen. _It was an old dream, one he had had since childhood. The dream when you wake up in the night and something grabs your leg. Only that time the monster spoke to him.

_Listen. This is just a dream, but very clever people can hear dreams so please just listen…_

It had told him that it was okay to be afraid, that fear was a super power. It told him what he would one day tell little Rupert Pink, before making the child believe it had all been a dream. But what of the Doctor? What of that lonely little boy? Had his mind told him that to comfort him or had it been someone else? Lately when he'd had the dreams he had heard it in Clara's voice. That could be a trick of the mind, or maybe he really was starting to remember. Maybe it wasn't a dream at all. Maybe Oswaldoswin had comforted him that night, as she so often did, and her words had gotten mixed up in a dream. _I'm going to leave you something, just so you'll always remember. _What had been left? The Doctor could almost remember. He ran out of the console room and weaved through the corridors until he found the _forgotten room_, the room full of objects that were too painful to see, but too important to be parted with: Melody's cradle, Amelia's childhood drawings, Clara's umbrella, and almost all of his Gallifreyan possessions, still sealed away in a time vault. The Doctor wasn't even sure what he was looking for. Perhaps it had only been a dream, perhaps there had been nothing left for him at all. He almost believed it, until his hands closed around a small figurine. He pulled it out of the container and held it at eye level. As if on cue, all the old memories came flooding back.

"_I thought you didn't want to be a soldier."_

"_I don't."_

"_Then why are you playing with one?"_

"_He's not a soldier."_

"'_Course he is, he's just missing a gun. He's a broken soldier."_

"_He doesn't need a gun. Because he's not afraid of anything. Or well, he is afraid, but that's okay, because that doesn't have to make him cruel or cowardly. Sometimes being afraid can just make you kind."_

"_That's stupid. And besides, he's wearing a uniform. Who else could he be?"_

"_He's a… a doctor."_

The Doctor stared at the small toy, amazed at how a simple object could illuminate his childhood after all of this time. The more he looked at it though, the more it called to him from a far more recent memory. _"Dan the Soldier Man." _How had he never realized this before. It wasn't a Gallifreyan toy, it was a human toy, one of Rupert's toy soldiers. _The Boss one. _In that moment everything from that night became clear. It was Gallifrey that Clara would not let him see. Gallifrey that the TARDIS would never have allowed him to go if he had not turned off the navigation safe guards. And the monster under the bed, wasn't a monster, or an echo, it was Clara, _his Clara_. His constant companion; his silent passenger. She was always there. Or she had been.

She changed the future on Trenzalore. Changed it a few times, but one thing was clear, the Doctor was suppose to die there that day in Christmas. His last self should have been the final version of him and as such he was the last Doctor the Great Intelligence infiltrated. The last version who would have Clara's coming to his aid. Clara had only seen eleven Doctors, them and the warrior. All those millions of Clara's, and none of them were out there to save him. Not from the Great Intelligence anyway. Clara Oswin had already shown they couldn't help themselves when it came to looking after him. He should be glad. No more Clara's giving their lives for him, that was better, and yet it made him feel so alone. She had always been there for him. Had shaped every part of his life, from his TARDIS, to saving Gallifrey, even his name and the promise behind it: _Never cruel or cowardly. Never give up, never give in. _So he wouldn't give up on her. He had done as she asked, he had _cleared off_, and if she was really finished with him… well she had the right, she'd certainly done her fair share of caring for him, but he still had to try, had to at least say he was sorry. He couldn't let two thousand years of friendship and support end with one thoughtless act. And if she still wanted him to leave… well maybe it was time for him to care for her. All of those Clara's, all of those echoes… He couldn't interfere with their lives before they met him, whichever version of him they were destined to save, but he could help them afterwards, tend to wounds, save lives in the nick of time. In sort, be a Doctor.

_Fin._


End file.
